Stages of Grief
by Eric Draven201
Summary: Dante cycles through the stages of grief when harm comes to his fellow devil hunter. Oneshot.


Stages of Grief

Denial cast a thick pall, smothering the life from the devil hunter.

Dante hardly knew what hit him— or Lady, for that matter. He stood motionless, staring at Lady's bloodied and broken form with soulless eyes. Until that moment, he had not noticed the warm crimson liquid pouring from his abdomen. A sudden sharp, shooting burst of pain made him realize that the demon had got him, too.

Dante could fathom neither the speed nor the sheer ferocity the thing had exhibited. They had been called to deal with a couple of wraiths. Sure, he and Lady were aware that wraiths would be fast, perhaps even a challenge, but they had been confident that they had the situation well handled. He expected that it would take twenty minutes tops and then they would be home in time for some primetime dramas. They had been blinded by hubris.

The demons closed the distance in mere moments. Lady was defenseless while reloading Kalina Ann. Dante's warning came late, allowing the smoke shrouded thing to rush and tear into her before she could aim any of her secondary weapons. Dante sliced into his opponent in time to see the glistening crimson spew from her falling body and splatter onto a few of the street lamps that lined the edge of the docks.

Dante dashed to her side, calling out to her. "Lady! Lady!"

Lady slowly sat up coughing up blood. "I'm fine," she lied, "Go and find that little shit before it kills somebody."

Oh, the white lies humans tell each other and the red ones they tell themselves.

"You're hurt. We've got to stop the bleeding." He had never seen so much blood since he was a small child, leaving him in shock. The sight of Lady's free-flowing vitality took his mind to the night his mother died. He remembered the red painting the walls, as if a bomb had gone off inside of her. He removed his coat, tearing pieces off of his shirt sleeves to create makeshift bandages to staunch her bleeding.

"Are you stupid? Just go!" She yelled.

"But—" He resisted, anguished.

"I can take care of it. Go and get that demon!"

Initially hesitant, Dante followed the demon. Soon, he passed through the winding, sea-side labyrinth at lightning speeds. He sniffed out the faint sulfur trails through corridors of stacked shipping containers and cornered the remaining wraith. There was no time to play; no humorous quips to be said. The demon could only slice at Dante's gut before the hunter obliterated it.

Dante stood at Lady's side, once again in denial. He sank to his knees beside her. His ice-colored eyes gazed at the supine figure before him. He gathered her head in his lap and stroked her pale, frigid cheek. His mind reasoned that she was merely sleeping. He wanted to rouse Lady from her slumber. Dante laid a shaking hand on her shoulder but stopped; not wanting to disturb her, not wanting to desecrate the body. For the first time in a long time, he was utterly lost. There was no demon magic he knew of to revive her. The sad fact was that she had no devil within her. Any orbs or vital stars he carried were rendered unusable.

Anger was the next to take hold. Rage gripped his very soul until his anguish was released in a brief flash of his Devil Trigger. Tears welled in his once again human eyes. His silent screams filled the night, a voice far too hoarse to wail; to cry; to properly mourn.

Ten minutes. It took all of ten minutes for Dante to cycle through his thoughts. He could have been stronger, faster… at least been by her side. _Is this what Vergil felt? _He wished that he could summon death and bring her back. Charon would need only a bribe to cross the Styx.

"Take me instead of her," he would have bargained. _What good would it do_, the other half of his brain rationalized, _she's in a better place_.

Time became irrelevant. Dante was not sure how long he had been there. There sitting, cradling her body. There sitting in a numb sorrow beyond tears. He sat realizing the hopelessness of dwelling on would he could not do. Lady was dead, as simple as that. There was no bringing her back, no use in crying. What is a life without her?

_Then why not join her_, a voice resounded in his head. _End it all_.

"An end?" Dante questioned as he reached for Ivory. _Is there anything left?_ He convinced himself that it would only be a second and there would be no pain. He ejected the magazine and cycled through it until he reached his special round. A single bullet with a potent blessing inscribed on it, designed to take down upper-leveled devils. A bullet given to him by Lady. He reinserted his clip and slid the chamber back.

"Save a spot for me."

He glanced back at Lady as if he was seeking approval; half wondering if she would rise and object. There would be no phone calls from the governor to stay his hand tonight.

He brought the pistol to his right temple and cocked the hammer. He took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. Ivory's bark echoed across the darkened docks.

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